


Failed seduction

by cherrygoldlove



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bond is a bit of a bastard, Clothing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Slow Build, kind of first time?, office flirting, pining Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 22:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12735219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrygoldlove/pseuds/cherrygoldlove
Summary: When Q tries a bit too hard to flirt with Bond, it miserably backfires. Or does it?





	Failed seduction

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank @nebelkraehe for her support <3 You're awesome!
> 
> Also, sorry if someone feels touched by my description of clothing choices and their view in Bond's eyes as 'bad' (some I think would look amazing on Q, or just needing a little adjustment to look amazing :D so just bear with me and Bond ;) )

James walked by Q branch on his way from the garage towards M’s office, Moneypenny in tow.

There was no way he could miss the head boffin, standing as the man was in the centre of the room, but his clothes was what drew Bond’s gaze. 

He stopped in his tracks and looked at Eve.

“You made him go shopping and let him loose in the rebellious teenager section?”

Eve raised her hands in defence.

“Oh no, no, no, you won’t pin that on me. As far as I know it’s his own choices, dictated by a recent personal decision to change his style a bit to, as he claimed, ‘make the atmosphere in Qbranch more relaxed’.”

Giving another look at the boffin almost obscenely tight, leather, black trousers and the accompanying oversized, honey-mustard yellow, knitted sweater and black platform shoes, James started walking again. The only way Q even considered such trousers was the fact that he was always standing by his work station. If the boffin attempted to sit, James was sure the trousers would either slid down over the surprisingly round bottom or burst at the seams.

 

*

As it appeared, that was only the first of weird and even more horrendous than the previously favoured ‘style’ of attires in Q’s new collection.

The next time Bond came by Q-branch, Q was wearing… jeggins. Bond only knew the name of that because of a barely adult girl he had the pleasure of undressing from it two missions ago. The one the boffin wore looked almost painted on the slim body, with cuts and tears around the knees and thighs. Accompanying it was a long sleeved blouse that ended just above the swell of the brunet’s arse and weird looking tall boots. The blouse, or maybe rather something bordering on a tunic, was made of irregularly cut pieces of textured materials of varied shades of peach. 

Coming up to thee boffin James leaned his hip on the table and gave Q’s arse an inquiring look.

“Extra pillows or a new prototype of arse shield?” he asked.

Q snorted out a giggle, head bowing, before sending a twinkling look Bond’s side.

“No, 007. Just the extra bump an insole gives. But glad you’re finally paying attention-”  
They didn’t manage to finish conversation as an alarm biped and Q was swept into helping out 003 out of a tricky situation.

 

*

 

“What I would love to have right now is a hot-tea in my bed to keep me warm and sated till morning, Bond.” Q turned to him, a weird kind of smile on the boffin’s face that didn’t match the Quartermaster’s annoyance of just a moment ago. “But as you’ve decided to disrupt my plans with your unexpected mission... Maybe after you’re back?”

Bond had a distinctive feeling there was something going on here that he was missing, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. Lifting up one eyebrow and turning his head slightly to the side indicating he was feeling lost in the conversation, he waited for Q to come clear.

“Hot-tea. In my bed.” Q tried again, clearly pronouncing the first word as ‘hottie’ this time. “Warm and s-” then he turned to fully face Bond and jutted out his hip to lean on the table but the clearly miscalculated the distance from the surface. The desk being too far, the boffin ended up flailing and catching himself up with palms pressed flat on the surface, quickly catching a mug that juggled a bit with the impact. James only observed all this with a blank look on his face.

The boffin righted himself up, adjusting his glasses that slipped down his nose and then running flat palms over his stripped blue and green shirt, fixing his orange-brown tie and Bond thought all of those moves totally unnecessary. There was no ‘fixing’ or making this whole ‘attire’ better save throwing it away. Or burning it down.

A blush high on his cheeks, Q resumed typing on his laptop.

“Never mind, Bond. Off you go to R, he has your equipment ready and will explain everything.”

With a one more calculating look at the flustered Quartermaster, Bond gave him a nod, and murmured his goodbyes before departing.

Strange.

 

*

 

Lollipops.

The newest obsession of the Q-branch.

Lollipops and candy canes. Bond blames the Christmas season for that one weird meeting.

As always, he walks up to Q, he makes his steps quiet as a cat, moving slowly, cautiously.

By the time Q spots him he has been standing there, unmoving, for about two minutes. Even with all the weird stuff going on with the head boffin lately, Bond still enjoys screwing with the man.

Q does a double take, head twitching slightly to the side and then catching Bond’s figure but he doesn’t quite process what he’s seeing so he makes additional couple key strokes before he turns to Bond fully, eyes wide and mouth…

Obscenely stretched over what must be a lollipop.

Bond observes in wonder as Q reaches for the plastic stick and tugs the candy out and it comes out with a pop, the man’s lips glistening wet and a vivid shade or red. Lollipop, Bond’s mind supplies, but if he didn’t know better he’d be sure it’s lipgloss.

“What can I do for you, 007.” Q says and Bond observes as Q licks as his lips. And the move is far from being discreet. The tongue goes out almost fully from one corner and swipes a broad lick over the upper lip to disappear in the other corner. Then the lollipop gets popped in again and Q’s cheeks hollow out as he sucks the candy.

It’s obscene and hardly appropriate behaviour in the office. But a part of Bond finds it hot despite himself.

“Equipment.” He grumbles out, voice a bit hoarse.

Q sucks on the candy couple more times before he tugs it out again, lips stretched in a smile as the green eyes twinkle as they swipe Bond’s form and rest for a second too long on the blond’s groin. Bond lifts an eyebrow at that, and Q quickly springs back to business. Or as much back to business as one can be whilst having a serious oral fixation with a candy.

“Ah, yes. Mexico this time, isn’t it? Follow me.” 

Bond observes as Q shows him to a nearby table and goes through the motions, all the time sucking at the lollipop, twirling it in his mouth, pushing the globe to his cheek and making it bulge. One time Q’s pulling out the lollipop, lips tightly clenching on the red candy as it slides out and… a bit of saliva drips down the brunette's chin. Q swipes it off with the heel of his hand, a blush rising high up on the sallow cheeks and Bond’s not sure if he should feel appalled and a touch disgusted or… a tad bit aroused.

“I think that’s all, 007.” Q announces, his forehead still creased in thought as he mentally goes over the list of mission brief. He’s holding the lollipop in one hand, running the red, glistening wet candy over his lips, making them even more shiny. With a final nod to himself he looks up at Bond, lips stretching in a smile.

Bond leaves with his mind feeling like a mess.

The lollipop has even distracted him enough from commenting on Q’s wardrobe choice for the day - a white flowing blouse with thick cuffs and a black ribbon tied under chin, paired with loose brown and red striped pants and red, leather shoes. Abominable.

 

*

 

“Q, a word if you please.” one look at Q’s new clothes and James decided he had enough. This had to end.

Q startled a bit hearing Bond’s voice, then he calmly turned to look at the agent, a hopeful little gleam in the green eyes, mouth stretched in a tiny shadow of a smile as his eyes blinked furiously. A nervous tick.

“What seems to be the problem, 007?”

He had to give it to the boffin, despite the infatuation he still maintained a strict level of professionalism in their interactions at first contact.

“I need to speak to you. Privately. May we go to your office?” Hands stuffed into his trousers’ pockets, James made a half turn to indicate direction.

Thankfully Q still had a piece of brain left as he appeared suspicious before ultimately nodding.

“Give me a moment.” the boffin turned back to his laptop typing couple commands and locking his screen before turning back around to James. With a nod at James and a nervous swipe of hands over the appalling green shirt he had on, the boffin walked by the blond leading the way to the Quartermaster’s office.

James followed his colleague in, closing the doors behind himself firmly.

“The blinds if you will.”

With another mistrustful look, Q moved to obey.

“What is it, Bond? What are you up to now?”

“This needs to end, Q. It’s getting ridiculous. Let’s face it, you have no fashion sense whatsoever. The way you choose cuts and pieces of your attire is at best random and at worst bordering on inappropriate. And don’t let me get started on the colour pallets.” one hand back in his pocket the other making a round gesture indicating Q’s form, James spoke his mind. “It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what you were trying to do, I must admit that, but now that I finally get it, let's cut to the chase. Your seduction technique is helpless. Please spare me and the rest of your team any more of the horrendous get ups and go back to your usual cardigans and checkered trousers. And for God’s sake, no more flirting attempts. Maybe I’d fuck you out of your miserable infatuation if the circumstances were different, but I don't fuck inside MI6.”

It was painful to see how Q’s face fell. The boffin ducked his head, arms going to wrap around his willowy form in a self-comforting hug and James felt his heart constrict. Fuck. He didn’t mean to be so forward, he didn’t mean to hurt the boffin, he just got so annoyed… Not that it was any excuse.

“I… I’m sorry, Q.” he muttered, unused to the expression yet meaning it, for the first time in years. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”

“No, it’s... “ Q cleared his throat before continuing. “I believe you’re quite right.” The boffin lifted up his head and looked straight at Bond for a millisecond before his eyes started to dart around the place. They were slightly red rimmed but no tears were visible for which James felt relieved. “Well. It did in the end bring me your attention in this manner, so I can’t say the whole endeavour was that much of a failure.” Q’s mouth was set in a flat, insincere smile for a fleeting moment before his expression flattened out completely.

Smoothing his hands over his shirt and then realising the move he made Q laughed a bit, the sound high pitched and cut short, self-deprecating, as he half turned, stopped and then turned again heading to sit behind his desk.

Back straight, he moved his chair closer to the desk, reaching for one of the laptops resting atop and lifting the lid up, firing up the system.

James gave him a long look. It wasn’t that he found the boffin completely undesirable, but a fling would just complicate things in the long run. He wasn’t a long term commitment kind of guy, he couldn’t be faithful and as current example proved, he was a total and utter bastard at times. And it was obvious the brunet was looking for romance and relationship not a quick fuck in an empty meeting room and maybe a lazy, sex filled weekend here and there.

“Q-”

“You should leave, 007.” Q was already typing fast on the keyboard, seemingly not paying attention to the blond anymore.

James walked up half a step, feeling at a loss at what to say now, but unwilling to just part now like this.

“I-”

Q slammed the laptop closed and looked angrily at Bond.

“What? You said your piece. It’s fine, I get it. The only thing I don’t get is why make up the excuse of ‘not fucking within MI6’ and not straight up tell me you’re not out-of-missions-bisexual, or that you just plain and simple not find me attractive. You undeniably did fuck Eve in Shanghai!”

“I did no such thing.” James looked at him incredulously. “She told you that?”

Q looked down at his laptop ashamed of his outburst and accusations.

“She.. heavily implied.”

“She lied then.”

Silence fell on them as Q fidgeted nervously with the cuffs of his dress shirt and a watch he had started wearing a week ago. 

“One date, James. Could I not have that? For you to ‘fuck this miserable infatuation out of me’?” the brunet looked up, eyes shifty and blinking a lot, the muscles in his cheeks twitching and tensing between frowns and grimaces before he ducked his head again.

“It'll complicate things, Q.” James came around Q’s desk to perch on the surface close to him. “Say we do have a fling. You’ll get a taste and maybe I’ll, finally, get an exploding pen out of it, but then I’ll be all across the globe for weeks, killing and fucking and drinking my way through the various missions, breaking your heart.” James reached a hand to run through the wild mop of brown hair and then down the shapely head to cup his fingers under the other man’s chin to lift his head up towards him. “You don’t need a man like me in your life, Q.”

“You’re already ‘in my life’ Bond. The biggest headache I have daily.” Q gave a little sad smile, tugging his head away from James’ touch before turning and rummaging in one of the drawers. Pulling out a slim black box and placing it on the desk, Q gave it a little push with the tips of his long, blunt fingers towards James. “Merry Christmas, I guess.”

Reaching towards the box, James ran his own fingers over the surface. No need to look inside or ask about the contents.

“And I do know who you are, what you do and how you behave, James. You seem to be forgetting who is observing all of your missions and guiding you through coms. I would never ask you to change, people never change despite what they might claim... I just- I just wanted to have a piece of you whilst you’re here.” Q smoothed fingers of one hand over the laptop lid, the other around his slim waist, comforting himself as he avoided looking at James.

Making up his mind, James gave in. This all situation was already tits up, and surprisingly not of James’ own doing. Q was already biased towards James, and yet, managed to not give in to the agents all whines and pleas and not let him get off the hook for lost equipment and other quips. James wasn’t against fucking men even off missions, and there were things in the brunet he did find pleasing, both in character and in body. Maybe Q was right. How a date and a night of sex could make it all worse then?

“Friday, 8pm. I’ll get us a table at The Ritz.” James stood up and walked around the desk. Adjusting his cuffs he turned to face Q’s bewildered face, the boffin’s mouth hanging open. “Text me your address, I’ll pick you up from your flat.” with a soft smile, he walked out.

 

*

 

Pulling up to the curb outside Q’s flat, James couldn’t hide his amusement. The boffin stood outside his doors, looking nervous and fidgety, slim palms smoothing over the expensive material of the perfectly cut and tailored, dark charcoal suit and the deep gray shirt underneath. James congratulated himself on the choice and was pleased Q did go to the appointment with James’ tailor the blond set up for him. The boffin looked exquisite. 

Stopping the car, James got out to open the doors on the other side for his date.

 

*

 

James was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself over the diner.

Q’s dry, witty humour and vast interests made for easy and interesting conversations, what he also found deeply alluring was Q’s ability to speak fluent French, a fact he wasn’t aware of before. He knew the boffin spoke Spanish, Italian and had a proper knowledge of Latin and some decent enough abilities in German, but French came as a surprise. There was something in the boffin’s accent that piqued James’ arousal. 

As the meal progressed, they both relaxed and slowly Q was slipping back to his poorly executed flirting which now James found endearing. Even more so now that Q allowed himself to uninhibitedly laugh at his own measly attempts, and maybe it was the wine, but the tiny giggles were pulling James’ own, sincere smiles.

Escorting a slightly tipsy Q out of the restaurant, James had a change of mind. He booked them a suit here, at Ritz, but now, after such a lovely evening, he decided Q deserved a more personal touch. With a smile, he gently wrapped his arm around the slim waist and guided Q towards the exit, signaling the doorman to fetch the Aston for them.

 

*

 

“Very classy this time.” James complimented himself, basically, as he reached for the slim black and blue striped tie, undoing it slowly. “Still, I bet you look much more fetching without all this materials…”

And he did. 

Q was thin, but it was obvious it was just his physique, not malnourishment that made him so. He had a slight muscle tone to his stomach and his shoulders were rounded a bit. They undressed each other slowly, sharing slow and soft kisses and getting rid of shirts and ties and belts, peeling away all the materials until they both stood naked. 

Wrapping his arms around Q’s tiny waist James guided them both to the bed, helping Q get settled over the covers on his back as the blond hovered over him.

The boffin’s touch was almost skittish as they started to explore their bodies, eyes wide open as he followed Bond’s every move and it made James stop and think.

“Q, have you done it before?”

And there was the blinking again, the tensing and twitching of the muscles in the cheeks pulling awkward smiles as the boffin nervously licked his lips, eyes darting to the sides.

“Once or twice… but, uh, many years ago and… only fingers? And couple mutual blowjobs.”

James thumped his head on the pillow next to Q’s head.

“Alright.” he said, lifting up and giving the nervous boffin a calming smile before leaning in for a kiss. “We’ll take is slow.” 

 

*

 

Q moaned in discomfort, hips hitching up and slightly away as James tried to slide in the third finger. 

As the night progressed, the brunet got more sure in his touches, grew more relaxed and comfortable, but some things can’t be rushed in the end. There was no way James could fit his cock in Q without hurting the other man tonight, so even despite Q’s direct wishes, they wouldn’t be having penetrative sex anytime soon. The boffin was just still too tense for that.

Finishing the kiss they were sharing, James slid lower, marking his way with soft kisses and little nips, sucking on a tiny pebble of a nipple and making Q sigh in pleasure.

When James finally got his mouth around Q’s penis, the brunet startled badly, hips twitching and a shuddering yelp bursting out of the cherry red mouth. James only smirked, he knew how good it felt and how good he could make it for Q.

 

* 

 

“James, I-I’m close, I- uh I don't want to come before we-” 

With a wet sound James lifted of Q’s straining erection to look up at the boffin.

“I won't fuck you tonight. You're too tense and tight. I’d just hurt you.”

“But-”

“Shh… just enjoy.” James pet gently over one bony hip before taking the hard penis back into his mouth, giving it a hard suck to distract his lover.

But soon the penis started softening and there was a different type of shudder to Q’s body. With a sigh and a parting kiss to the shriveled organ James looked up at his lover. 

The brunet had his elbows risen above him and heels of his palms pressed against his eyes, fingers curled. The brunet’s breath was coming in little, hitched breaths, throat bobbing.

Pulling his fingers out of the boffin’s arse and quickly wiping them on the sheets, James lifted up to lay on his back by the distressed boffin.

“Computers I get, human interactions, relationships…” Q angrily moved to get up. “I can't do anything right.”

Bond's hand shot out catching Q's slim wrists and pulling the thin body back onto the bed.

“Let go of me!” the brunet struggled, kicking at his captor fitfully. James wasn't budging and soon he had Q on his back on the bed, thin wrists held pinned to the pillow by the boffin’s head and one thigh between the brunet's own, holding the other man in place.

Defeated, Q gave an annoyed, pitiful sigh.

“Q, I promised you one good fucking, and if that in your books means my cock up your arse, then we'll keep on having this dates and as many orgasms in between as we're able till my cock fits right well inside you, alright? No need to get upset, darling.” 

Q's face was still set in a frown as he looked at Bond from downturned brows, his gaze stormy and James just leaned in closer, his mouth hovering over Q's as he didn't break their stare. Then he moved even closer, their breath mingling but skin not touching for tense filled seconds till Bond didn't finally close the gap, laying gentle pecks over the thin lips, then soft, tender kisses that turned into their lips sliding against each other. Q relaxed then, pressing up into the blond's searching mouth and turning the teasing into full blown, deep kiss, eyes closing.

James devoured his mouth, pressing close as he shifted his body atop Q's, moving the boffin’s thighs apart and sliding in between. They both moaned as their softened cocks rubbed against each other. 

Braced on one forearm above Q, James reached under the pillow for the previously discarded lube bottle and uncapping it one handed, poured some liquid into his palm. He was making a mess and did not care about it at all. 

Slicked, he moved his palm between their bodies, wrapping his fist tight around their pricks, squeezing tight on an upstroke move making Q throw his head back in a deep moan, thighs shaking, his own hips pushing down hard.

He didn't let up on the intensity, just continued his sure strokes. Then Q's lips were on him again, wrapping willowy arms around his shoulders as he pressed awkward open mouthed kisses to James’ crooked lips. The boffin’s breath came in high pitched moans and were driving Bond insane.

Letting go of their now unbearably hard cocks, James fit their bodies close, rubbing and fucking his prick alongside Q's, arms pushing between the boffin’s body and the bed to wrap around the slim form, sneaking under bony shoulders and hips and holding close as they grinded together towards sweet completion.

 

*

 

Despite knowing better, Bond let Q stay the night. Tangled in the dirty sheets they drifted off to sleep laying a bit apart on the bed.

Deep in the night Bond woke up to the feeling of Q shifting besides him, the boffin sliding closer. He could feel careful fingers moving across his arm, gently swiping over the skin and sliding from his elbow to his open palm. There was a tremble to the long fingers, a kind of fear to the movement. Surely Q didn’t think James wouldn’t wake up with movement next to him? He was an double-oh afterall. But he laid unmoving, wanting to see what Q would do when thinking him asleep. 

The brunet’s fingers moved over his own, fitting the delicate digits between James’ thick, calloused ones so they ended up holding hands, fingers entwined. For couple tense filled moments Q was stock still, obviously wondering if James would wake up, if he’d pull away. But when the blond didn’t make any indication as to being awake, Q moved that bit more closer, resting his forehead against Bond’s shoulder, his warm breath smoothing over the agents skin.

And in that moment James painfully realised and fully understood that it wasn’t about sex at all for his Quartermaster. It was about affection and feelings and this little touches. He couldn’t help wondering if Q was touch starved… Did he have any family? Any friends outside of MI6?

Feeling even more like an utter bastard, Bond didn’t sleep a wink through the night.

 

*

 

Next time he came back from a mission, there was not even a distant memory of Q's previous attires. In it's place were nicely tailored trousers and blazers and shirts. Classy, office appropriate, yet comfortable.

Q blushed a bit as he spotted James appraising gaze, smiling, when he saw Bond's nod of approval.

 

*

Three weeks into their _thing_ Bond came to Qbranch late at night, still kind of wired but tired as hell from his quick, but exhausting mission. Three days without sleep for a quick, brutal extraction run. His target made it safely back into UK with him in the end, but it has been touch and go for awhile. Bruised and battered, James wanted his usual post-mission relaxation - alcohol and sex. Or sex and alcohol. And now to get either he didn’t have to wine and dine anyone or flirt exaggeratedly. He had one very keen boffin to sate his lust with.  
He walked behind said boffin, quiet as a cat stalking his prey and enjoying how the man jumped a little as Bond laid his hands on the bony hips.

“Q.” He whispered as hello.

“Bond!” The boffin yelped, half turning to face his captor. “I thought you'd go straight home.”

“Decided on a little detour…” James moved his left hand over to his lover's arse, palm spreading open as he cupped the derrière, then he let his middle finger slip into the valley between the moulds and crudely caressed the line there. “Did your finger yourself thinking of me?” He breathed hotly in one blush-red ear. 

“No.” Came Q’s clipped response, head bowed ashamedly even as he pushed his bottom more firmly into Bond’s hand. They were alone in the room, only cameras bearing witness to the display.

The response surprised James.

“Why not?”

Q gave him a quick look from beneath his bangs before turning away again, head bobbing as he resumed his typing.

“I didn't… I don't want to… be done with this arrangement so soon, and besides” Q's tongue slipped out to wet the thin, red lips, cheeks twitching as he looked at Bond again. “You promised to get me ready, I won't be doing your job for you.” he finished in fast, clipped tones.

James laughed softly. Sneaky boffin.

“Come on then, a bottle of Redbreast and my bed awaits us.”

 

*

 

Sitting on the bed between Q's splayed thighs, lifting one leg up and resting the shapely ankle on his shoulder as he let his hand move down the silky smooth shin towards one knobbly knee, Bond wondered why he didn't notice Q before in this way.

Q had a spectacular pair of legs on him, long, shapely, even the knees looking kind of fetching, and Bond was totally a leg kind of man, doesn't matter the sex. 

It was amazing how he could lean over the boffin, sliding the smooth shin over his skin until his shoulder caught under one knobbly knee as he bent the other man in half, the boffin’s other leg laying splayed over his thigh leaving Q wide open to Bond’s searching fingers.

Nudging his hastily slicked digits inside, Bond swallowed Q’s trembling breaths into his own mouth before kissing the glistening red mouth.

Later that night, when Q fell asleep, sated and exhausted, Bond shifted to lay on his side and contemplated his lover.

Truth to be said, the other man was probably Bond’s best chance at a steady, not-back-stabbing relationship if that was what he wanted. Head of MI6’s department for the past three years, fiercely loyal to Queen, Country and the agents in his care. Brilliant and quick witted and with a sense of humour Bond grew to appreciate. And so needy of affection, so grateful for the scraps he was given it made even his stone cold heart melt at the edges. 

He waited a bit longer, to be sure the boffin’s breath evened out in deep sleep. Carefully shifting, he placed his arm around the thin waist he pulled the plaint body closer, burying his nose in the dark curls. Q always smelled of earl grey tea and it always brought a smile to Bond’s lips remembering the first day they met, how the snarky nerd of a twink put him in his place in the National Gallery. 

With a deep sigh Bond closed his eyes and drifted off too.

 

*

 

Sometimes he would sit Q up against the headboard of his bed, nudge the boffin’s thin legs apart, almost to a split, and have the brunet jack himself off whilst he watched, sipping whisky.

Q was incredibly bendy. Yoga, as the man admitted, it relaxed him after a stressful day. And wasn't Bond reaping the benefits now.

He was teaching Q everything he knew, giving him a crash course in pleasure and showing the reserved boffin how to be wanton, how to be sexy and enjoy himself with a lover.

Instructing Q to tease at one perky, pink nipple, to pinch it, tug it, twist it and then to wet his fingers in his mouth and do it all again, harder. And Q would sweetly obey, lifting the long, blunt fingers to his mouth and licking them, sucking them into his mouth, giving Bond a sultry look from the hooded eyes as the fingers were dragged down the rounded chin, leaving smudges of saliva.

Still a bit shy and awkward at the beginnings, but when he got properly aroused, Q's boundaries fell apart and the boffin let himself go.

Legs spread wide and toes curling slightly with pleasure on every upward stroke on his cock, Q was exquisite to look upon. Fisting his prick in one bony fist as he obediently tormented his nipple with the other, head lolling to the side as a wicked tongue darted out of pleasure slack mouth to lick at his parted lips, making them shiny and red. Almost as red as that lollipop made them, almost as red as the tip of the boffin’s cock, glistening with precum. 

With another command, Q obediently slid his hand down his chest, rubbing around the base of his cock and then lower, to play with his testicles.

He pushed two fingers hard behind his balls and then smoothed the digits down his taint towards his hole, rubbing circles just above the furled flesh. But he never fingered himself, that was James’ territory, the blond's responsibility. An attempt to make their fling last longer.

Q came, hips twitch and his thighs threatening to close up. The bony fist tightened just under the spurting head, strings of come hitting the brunet's trembling stomach, the second burst dripping over the pronounced knuckles down the shaft and hairless testicles. 

One time Q shaved, unbidden by James, and showed off his smooth crotch, down to the valley between the arse cheeks and seeing James’ fascination with it, maintained the baby soft and hairless status.

Putting the empty whisky glass to the side Bond crawled over Q's sated form, pressing kisses to the orgasm slack mouth, tongue diving deep. 

He was so hard, aching so badly…

Smoothing his hand over the still trembling stomach, giving the spent cock a gentle nudge and scooping some leftover lube and fresh come, he quickly moved his fingers to Q's hole, rubbing over the furled entrance and without further warning pushing the fingers inside Q's hole, evoking a strangled moan from the boffin. Q was relaxed enough for it to be just uncomfortable, not painful. And James quickly fucked him hard on his digits, stretching the hole fast, pulling the rim taunt as he spread his fingers wide when he pulled them out. 

Not wasting a second more he thumbed his weeping cockhead to the entrance, nudging it just so inside that when he came moments later his cum splashed over the pucker, some slipping inside, some marring the pink flesh outside.

Exhausted Bond collapsed onto the welcoming body beneath, skinny arms wrapping tight around him.

*

They don’t see each other for weeks at a time, managing just quick hellos between missions, relying only on the comms and a random video chat when possible.

And Bond finds himself missing the willowy body sleeping next to him in bed, the soft breaths coming from the cherry red lips.

The bodies of his mission conquests cease to excite him. Women too soft to his touch, too rounded sometimes, sometimes too thin, too much not like Q. The same with men - too butch, and he did like his man so most of the time, too hairy, too demanding or too disinterested. Just not right at all. 

He fucks them all the same though, it’s a part of his mission. They leave his bed satisfied and cheated of their secrets whilst Bond forgets about them the second they disappear from his view, a peculiar kind of hollowness in the blond’s chest remaining. It wasn’t the meal he wanted to have.

 

*

When he's back finally, down for a proper month or R&R, he suggests the improbable. And Q, hesitant but excited agrees, and two days later off they go to a little cottage deep in the Scottish moors.

And Bond's treated to peaceful mornings eating breakfast and the ever present scent of Earl Grey all throughout the day, clinging to the brunet's fair skin even after a walk in the chilled, damp air.

And evenings are a story of their own.

 

*

 

“You’re so ready, Remy, so ready…” Bond mouthed around his lover’s neck, kissing, licking, biting.

The boffin didn’t reply, just held tighter to Bond’s wide shoulders, hiding his face into the blond’s neck, gasping sweetly when James pushed his fingers deeper inside.

“Oh bloody hell,” James huffed, feeling almost desperate “just tell me how lousy that fuck was afterwards and we'll go again, and again and again” he punctuated every word with a deep thrust inside the sopping wet hole, fingers curling up to perfectly jam the prostate. “Till you're satisfied.”

Q spread his legs wider, needing, wanting, but his eyes were now on Bond, wide open and apprehensive.

“I swear, please, please, let me in.” James kissed him hard, eyes never leaving the mesmerising green.

“Yes.”

 

*

 

“So, how was it?” Still breathless, James asked as he rolled off Q, the tips of their fingers still touching idly.

The boffin sent him a tired but happy smile. “Amm-” then he caught himself, seeing James eyes dance in amusement. “-wful. Bloody awful, James.”

Bond leaned in to press a soft kiss to Q's lips.

“Sorry to hear that, darling. Give me a moment, a year or a century and I'm sure I'll finally please you enough.” he murmured against the swollen lips of his lover's before Q dragged him in for as much a proper kiss as he could manage, exhausted and smiling widely as he was.

 

 

 

 


End file.
